I need to remember that grief has no timeline. I’ve come to realize that I have to let it travel through me and know I’ll make it to the other side as I have before.
Read moreMy reflections on the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary
I first expressed my feelings that he must have been sick. He had to have been clinically psychotic to commit such a horrible act of violence. I was angry at those people who knew him, thinking they should have seen signs. But it’s not fair for me to speculate. I should have been praying when instead I was typing out my frustrations. The facts will be uncovered in time. The time now is time I should be praying and respectfully recognizing the victims by reading about their stories when their families are ready to share.
Read moreUntitled
1/24/18 - Had therapy today. Talked about wanting to write about my grief but not being sure about posting to the blog.
Read more#ForMiriam I Advocate: World Mental Health Day
When I think of what happened in DC last week, I keep coming back to the same feelings of anger, frustration and sadness.
Her life shouldn’t have ended that way.
There is something called Crisis Intervention Team (CIT) Training, which is a training program developed in a number of U.S. states to help police officers react appropriately to situations involving mental illness or developmental delay. The Washington, DC chapter of the National Alliance for Mental Illness has a page on their website describing the District’s Crisis Intervention Officer Program, as having "had 5 graduated classes of officers so far, as well as new recruit trainings."
I can’t help but wonder if the officer {or officers} who pulled the trigger had gone through CIT training.
If they had, or maybe had remembered the training during the incident, maybe the outcome would have been different.
Maybe not.
The only good thing that can happen as a result of this tragedy is advocacy in Miriam’s memory.
Advocacy to prevent something like this from happening again.
We can speak out. People like myself, who have experienced the hell of an inexplicable train of discombobulated and paranoid thoughts running through our heads. The hallucinations that come and go as fast as the minutes flying by on the clock next to the bed. The feeling that we’re invincible and don’t need sleep.
I've been there and I will continue to speak out about my experience in an effort to raise awareness for the signs and symptoms of postpartum psychosis. Because if even one person is helped through my writing, than it is worth all the effort.
Just because I experienced postpartum psychosis doesn’t make me a bad mother. It doesn’t make me a monster. It is an illness and my brain was sick. The important thing is that I got well and I made it through with treatment and support. I'm now able to help others by my work as an advocate.
And Miriam should have had that same chance.
But instead her friends and family are left to mourn this beautiful person who touched their lives and left behind is a constant reminder of her legacy, her baby girl.
It is my hope that once the darkness of their grief begins to dissipate, however far in the future that may be, the family will assume the role of advocate in their dear Miriam’s honor.
History, despite its wrenching pain, cannot be unlived,but if faced with courage, need not be lived again. - Maya Angelou
Comfort: Five Minute Friday {6}
COMFORT
Back then, newly sick and with the fear of a mental illness diagnosis looming over my head, there were few things that brought me comfort.
One that was the most strong was her love
and her continued fight
to get me back to well.
There were so many tears back then. But we were able to smile when we were together for pictures, even if it sometimes felt forced. Behind the smiles there was silent suffering.
No matter what, she never stopped trying to comfort me. To ease my pain. To take the hurt away from her baby, her firstborn.
She will always bring me comfort in times of sadness. She’s my mom.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.
I love you with all my heart.
xoxoxo
On angel's wings
She was gone in a second. My post last week was unintentionally appropriate. My mother-in-law called that evening to tell us that my husband's grandmother had been in the hospital with pneumonia and now she wasn't eating or drinking. Things did not look good. We starting looking at travel plans.
It was decided that my father-in-law would fly out the next day, and my husband and sister-in-law would join him in Wisconsin on Thursday evening and would stay the weekend. My mother-in-law, the kids and I would stay back and wait for an update.
Unfortunately, the update we were hoping for never came. Instead we got the call telling us she had passed away.
My father-in-law missed saying goodbye in person by one hour. A mere sixty minutes. 3600 seconds.
In my heart I know that she peacefully entered into heaven. I am absolutely positive she knew how much every member of her family loved her. I know that my husband's grandfather and cousin who left this Earth before her were there to hold her hand. And I believe that Jesus wrapped his loving arms around her and told her he was so proud of her for a life well lived.
And I was grateful for our last trip out to Wisconsin to see her this past May. I wrote about how I was sad that I forgot to take certain pictures, but that I was so glad to have had the time together to make memories that would last longer than the pictures I would have taken.
I spoke at her funeral service. I spoke about one of those memories we made during our last trip. It's my favorite memory of Grandma. After dinner one night, I suggested we pile all the great grandkids onto the couch around Grandma (6 of the 10 great grandchildren were there) to take some pictures. It was silly and challenging to get all the kids smiling and looking at the camera, but we got some great pictures. The five boys toppled off the couch and resumed their play, while Baby Girl climbed over to sit right next to her Great Grandma.
What happened next was the highlight of my eulogy. Baby Girl stood up and started patting her Great Grandma's beautiful white perfectly curled hair, as if to say, "Pretty, Grandma! So pretty!". Only our little lady wasn't talking quite yet. So it was just an adorable exchange of giggles, smiles, and high-fives. Such a special moment that I did catch on camera. Although I didn't even need the photo to remember the moment. It was that memorable.
Grandma was laid to rest on Saturday. That evening, the ladies of the family went through her (many) jewelry boxes to decide who would keep which pieces. We reminisced on the times we saw her wearing various bracelets, earrings, and necklaces. My little princess sat on my lap the entire time and would open up one of the wooden boxes, and then slip bracelet after bracelet on her tiny wrists. Everyone agreed that she should keep that bracelet box. Her brother later enjoyed "decorating himself" as he referred to donning the baubles on his arms.
In the end I chose one simple necklace that reminds me of how dainty, elegant, and pretty my husband's grandmother was. She was a gentle, loving woman who is now an angel who will always watch over her family from heaven.
Her necklace reminds me of angel's wings.
Rest in peace, Grandma.
I love you.
Praying silently for Sandy Hook
